


Inflection Point

by ac_123



Series: It's You I Find (Like a Ghost in My Mind) [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Galaxy Garrison, Garrison AU, M/M, Romance, shance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10004531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ac_123/pseuds/ac_123
Summary: Shiro reaches a turning point in his relationship with Lance just as he grows another year older.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wanted to wait until Shiro's actual birthday to publish this, but I'm pretty excited to get this fic to ya'll, so here you go! I do plan on getting back to the main story, but until then I might put out these little fics to hold us over.
> 
> If you want to chat with me about Shiro's birthday, VLD, or life in general, you can find me on Twitter at @ac_123, on Tumblr as ballpointpencil, or on the Shance Discord chat. HMU if you want the link to that. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Shiro leaned his head back, letting the back pillows support his neck while he caught his breath. Lance’s hands were still roaming over his chest and sides, feeling like soft words trilling over his ribs, and his lips were carving out a warm harbor on his neck. Shiro maneuvered his head to give him more room to nip and kiss, a gesture Lance took full advantage of when he dug into the crook of Shiro’s neck and sucked hungrily.

“H-Hey,” Shiro protested as he shivered. He weakly pressed his palm against the low crest of Lance’s stomach. “We talked about that—”

Lance removed his mouth with a _pop_ and whispered roughly into Shiro’s ear, “Below the collar.” He dipped back in and, this time, Shiro could feel uneven teeth rim the hickey Lance was making.

Shiro licked his lips and tried not to moan again. Lance’s hands journeyed up from his torso — flat palms riding up and over the mounds and valleys of his pecks and clavicle — to cup Shiro’s neck and shoulder, supporting him with delicate, calloused hands. Shiro’s hands moved to hold Lance’s hips, still vibrating after their vigorous grinding, his fingers digging into sharp hip bones as the warm waves of his orgasm receded and coalesced as electric arousal. He pulled Lance’s hips against his and smiled when he realized Lance’s excitement hadn’t abated either.

What time was it? They could probably get away with another quick round. The only issue would be Lance’s curfew. A student leaving his quarters close to curfew wasn’t an issue. Tutoring sessions ran long. Keith sometimes overslept on his couch. Lance roaming around the officer’s quarters long after curfew _again_ might raise some suspicions. Shiro could escort him back to his dorm. That way if Lance ran into security or one of the higher raking officers, Shiro could step in and explain the situation. _He’s a student of mine. I was holding a tutoring session that ran long. We didn’t realize the time._ And when they got back to his room, if his room mate was out and Lance was willing, they could find another way to say goodbye.

Lance leaving early in the morning, before the other officers and pilots woke up, might work too. It may be a little riskier, but possible. Security switched out just before five in the morning. Classes didn’t start until seven. They could move to his bed, give themselves the time and the room to explore, to feel, to taste. He bit his lower lip. He’d dreamed about how it would feel to have Lance’s thighs clasped around him; how warm and lively he’d be, egging him on with a sly grin and a wink, cooing his appreciation and whimpering his affection.

He had dreamed about a lot of things. Most of them will never come true. Spending the night with Lance was becoming more tangible, though, and there was no better time for him to ask than now, when Lance was leaving the final touches on his masterpiece and his hips were rolling into Shiro’s.

Shiro ran a hand up and down Lance’s flank. Lance pulled away and looked into Shiro’s eyes and sighed. His lips were red and shining and his eyes were flush with drifting stars.

“What’re you thinking about?” Lance asked.

Shiro smirked. He rested a hand on Lance’s cheek, careful not to disrupt the slope of his skin. “You,” he whispered.

Lance’s face turned bright red. His mouth warped around the smile he was trying to hold back. His cheek twitched under Shiro’s palm and Shiro decided that he had never wanted anything more than to make Lance smile.

Lance leaned in and brushed their lips together. “What time is it?” he asked.

Shiro looked over Lance’s shoulder at the digital clock across the room. “Five-thirty,” he said. He licked his lips. “Would you—”

“Five-thirty?” Lance shrieked. He jumped off of Shiro’s lap and scrambled to pull his pants up while putting on his uniform top and also reaching for his shoes. Shiro stayed sitting on the couch, his hands framing nothing and lips puckered around words he couldn’t say. He let his hands fall to his sides on the couch. Lance already had his cock tucked away in his underwear and the top of his head was poking through the neck of his undershirt.

“Is something happening at five-thirty?” Shiro asked.

Lance’s head popped out of the neck. “Well…uh…I actually had other plans,” Lance said. “With Hunk.”

“Oh,” Shiro said. Of course. He looked down at his own half-hard cock and felt cold embarrassment tumble down from his shoulders. He looked up and Lance was focused on buttoning up his uniform top. Shiro coughed and adjusted himself, pulling his underwear up his thighs and grimacing as he put himself away. “What are you doing with Hunk?”

“Oh, just stuff,” he said. He brushed out the wrinkles in his sleeves and tugged on the hem of his top. “Our presentations are tomorrow, right?”

Shiro winced. “Yes,” he said. “They start tomorrow, but you won’t be going up until the day after.”

“Really?” Lance asked, lilting with surprise and joy. When Shiro looked up, Lance’s face was lit with a huge, white smile and the embers of his earlier blush.

“Yes,” Shiro repeated. “Presenters are in alphabetical order and we’re only going to have enough time to get to the L’s tomorrow.”

“I have an L name, though,” Lance said.

Shiro’s eyebrow twitched. He was prepared to explain, no, _last_ names _McClain_ , before Lance laughed and put on his shoes. “Your face right now,” Lance said. He winked at Shiro. “I thought we were ending with M’s. This is great, though. I don’t have to practice tonight.”

He could feel the suggestion rise up to his lips, but he swallowed it down. There was too much risk in asking him to come back. “Do you need any additional help with it?” he asked. “I can take a look at it tomorrow.”

“No,” Lance said. “I think I got it.” His smile lingered, generous and kind, even as its volume diminished.

Shiro stood up, wincing at his persistent erection. “That’s good to hear,” Shiro said. He fiddled with the waistband of his pants as he pulled them up. “Would you like me to take you back to your room?”

“Nah. Hunk’ll be there and he might start asking questions,” Lance said. He stepped up to Shiro and kissed him on the cheek. “Gotta keep it on the down-low, right?”

Shiro nodded. “Right.”

After Lance left, Shiro looked down at his body. A few spare streaks of cum were drying on his stomach and the fly of his pants pressed uncomfortably into his dick. He sighed and picked up the clothes Lance had pushed off when he was digging for warm skin. He rubbed the back of his head. There were a few things he needed to do before he went to bed. There were lesson plans he needed to refine for the following week and he needed to call his parents to confirm their plans for the weekend. He touched the wet, warm, swollen spot at the base of his neck. Before all that, he thought, he’d need a shower.

~~~

Shiro never liked it when his instructors sat in the back of the room during presentations. It felt like they were hiding — like they were giving themselves the privacy and anonymity to judge his every mistake. That’s why, when he accepted the Garrison’s teaching offer, he swore to stay at his desk when he made his students give presentations.

Then he noticed how Lance played with his lips when he was bored. And how he liked to suck on his pens when he was listening to someone speak. And how his gaze would drift over to Shiro and settle into a dreamy stare when he was playing with his lips or sucking on his pens.

For the sake of his sanity and out of respect for his other students, Shiro set up a chair in the back of the room.

Only then did he come to understand that his old instructors did not, in fact, sit behind their students to silently judge them. They did it for the opportunity to hide their debilitating boredom. The notepad he was using had a handful of fractured sentences for the ten students who presented — half-formed thoughts about topics, research, and preparedness — and several pages of notes about where to take his parents that weekend. His mother wanted to visit the art museum in the next town. He had looked into it and found out that the museum had a well-reviewed restaurant on the top floor. It was encased in a glass dome that gave you three-hundred-and-sixty degree views of the desert and since the weather was going to be nice this weekend it would be a perfect place to get lunch after a long, long morning of looking at old, stale paintings. His notes about reservations and places to visit were surrounded by rough sketches of the back of Lance’s head or his eyes, shaped so that they peered at him with the heat and intensity normally reserved for the private moments they shared in his room. He had thought about that look when he settled into bed the night before. He had turned his head, foolishly imagining fading blue embers that flickered behind dark eyelashes and indulging in the muscle memory of long, lean arms embracing him.

Shiro scratched out one of the eyes. They agreed to tread carefully. This razor he was balancing on was tilted in favor of the blade. All it took was a moment of distraction.

He closed his notebook and went to the front of the classroom after the last presenter took his seat. Shiro reminded the second half of the alphabet that they would be presenting tomorrow and threw out a few extra announcements, reminding them about the importance of curfew and an upcoming information session about the different pilot career tracks. He dismissed the class and willed himself to not watch them leave, checking each head for short chestnut hair and earthy, coppery skin.

He looked up when the patter of a single set of footsteps approaching him rose above the echoes of students walking just outside the closed door. Lance was standing in front of him. His arms were held behind his back and he was trying to hold back a nervous smile.

“Cadet,” Shiro greeted. “Did you have any questions about your assignment?”

Lance shook his head. “Um, no Lieutenant Shirogane. I, uh, I wanted to…um…” He trailed off, voice trailing off and eyes falling away from Shiro.

Shiro waited for a moment, traced the stiff shoulders and high blush with his eyes before clenching his hands into fists and digging his knuckles into his desk. “Ca—”

Lance put a white cardboard box on his desk, its edges secured with Scotch tape and a single glittery, balloon-shaped sticker.

“Happy birthday,” Lance said quietly. After a beat, he added, “Sir.”

Shiro blinked. He felt the edges of the lid with his thumbs, searching for safe places to break the tape. A smile sneaked onto his face, worries about stray eyes and ears slipping to the back of his mind. “Thank you, Cadet,” he said fondly. “How did you find out?”

“I saw it on your Driver’s License,” Lance admitted, “when I looked in your wallet last week.”

“Excuse me?” Shiro asked.

Lance continued, left hand rubbing the knuckles on his right, “And I wondered how I never heard about your birthday before. Like, I’m sure it’s out there, somewhere, but you’re so quiet and private and I wanted to do something for you but nothing, you know, big, obviously. So I made this. For you.”

“You did? By yourself?” Shiro asked.

“Well,” Lance said. He scratched the side of his face. “I had help. And it’s not the best ever ‘cause I only had a few hours reserved in the communal kitchen and the ingredients were kinda hard to get. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t many grocery stores in the middle of the desert. Um, but you probably knew that. Anyway, point is I thought it’d be something nice. For you. For today. Or, well, kind of today. I didn’t know if you celebrated the day before or the day after but, um…”

Shiro snapped off the tape and carefully peeled the sticker to lift the lid and reveal four large chocolate cupcakes. They were topped with whipped vanilla icing and each one was decorated with a Swedish Fish carefully nestled on top.

“Thank you,” he said again. There was an urge in his shoulders and upper back, akin to being pushed, to lean forward and kiss Lance and fully demonstrate his appreciation. There were still students hanging around in the halls, though, and walking by the windows and the closed door. He closed the box. “I normally celebrate on the weekend,” he said, trying his hardest to sound casual.

“Yeah?” Lance asked. He tipped into a cautious, hopeful smirk. “Are you celebrating with anyone special this year?”

Shiro hesitated. “Yes,” he said. “My parents are coming down for the weekend.”

“Oh,” Lance mumbled. “Like, for the whole weekend?”

“Yes,” he said. He ran his hand along the edge of the box again, feeling the corners divide and dive to the desktop. “It’s a shame they couldn’t come in earlier, though. I’m used to waiting to celebrate but, for some reason, this year I’d really like it if there was someone to celebrate with today.”

Lance rubbed his forearm. His blush stretched from the tips of his ears and across the bridge of his nose. “Maybe someone special will show up to celebrate with you.”

Shiro shot a quick glance at the windows. There were still a few people hanging around: a pair of girls from engineering, a larger student with an orange headband waiting on the far wall, a pair of teachers who were talking animatedly as they walked. He stroked the box lid again. “I hope so,” he said. His attention returned to Lance’s red face, the lip he was biting, and the emerald flecks dusting the edges of his eyes. “I had someone special visit me last night, but they had to leave early. It was for something important, but…I wish they hadn’t. I really missed them once they left.”

If he hadn’t been staring so intently at Lance, he may have missed the small, shocked way his eyes opened further, and the way his chest stuttered on a short, silent gasp. “It gets lonely, doesn’t it?” he asked softly. “Sleeping on your own.”

Shiro nodded. “It does.”

“You shouldn’t be lonely on your birthday,” Lance said.

Shiro nodded. He reached across the desk and left his hand out, fingers spread enough for Lance to fit his fingers between them. Shiro could feel himself teeter on the narrow tip of that razor, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, losing his balance once he felt Lance’s hand lay on his. He couldn’t help but revel in how perfectly their fingers fit together.


End file.
